Just Another Day
by LexusGrey
Summary: Christmas Eve is just another day for Sara. She ends up spending it with an unlikely person.


Sara usually worked on Christmas eve, since she didn't have family - it was just another day of the year for her. But this year Grissom and Warrick were catching calls. Warrick had put in a request before she did, so she had the night off.

Watching families do the Christmas thing bothered her sometimes, but this year she'd been pretty indifferent so far. She didn't need a family, or a holiday, to enjoy her life. She was happy with her job, and that was her life, so she was happy with her life.

So, here she sat, having just been ordered out of the lab by Grissom after unsuccessfully trying to convince him that he needed an extra person tonight. She gave up, but she didn't want to go home yet, so she decided to sit on a bench outside and stare at the sky for awhile.

She'd been sitting for twenty minutes or so when the click of high heels drew her attention. She looked up to see a very delicate, but also very decadent, woman walk by her and enter the lab. She had dark brown hair pulled up in loose curls on top of her head, striking blue eyes framed by smoky lashes, and a dress that made Sara shiver. That had to be the Lady Heather she'd heard about. Had to. Who else could it be?

She didn't have much time to wonder before the click of heels on pavement reached her ears again, and when she turned around to look, the woman gave her a sultry yet apologetic smile and stopped in front of her.

"You must be Sara."

An eyebrow lifted. "You must be Lady Heather."

Heather's eyebrow lifted as well. "My reputation precedes me?" she asked.

"I can't think of anyone else in connection with the lab that fits your description." There was the slightest hint of condescension in her voice.

"You disapprove of me?" the Lady asked.

"I don't really know enough about you to approve or disapprove."

"I see. Well, Ms. Sidle, my apologies, but Grissom asked me to convince you to leave."

Sara almost burst out laughing. As it was, she was sure her face registered the shock she felt. "Grissom overestimates you."

"Does he?" Heather took a seat next to Sara on the bench, tilting her head to the side and regarding the CSI curiously.

"Oh no. Don't play your mind games with me, please," Sara said, shaking her head.

"All right," Heather smiled. "How about a straightforward invitation to my place, then? We can have tea, or cocoa, and get to know each other."

Sara's first instinct was to say no and run as far away as possible. But, the invitation seemed sincere enough and she could always run away later if things got weird. It might be nice to have some company on a holiday for once. She stood up, shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and stared down at Heather, giving an almost imperceptible nod.

"Excellent," Heather said, standing as well. "Follow me? Or would you prefer that I just give you directions?"

"Directions. I need to gas up my bike on the way." The tank was almost empty, and she wasn't about to risk it.

"You have a motorcycle?" Heather asked, her interest piqued.

"The boots and jacket don't give it away?"

"Almost," Heather said with a smile. "But not quite. I don't suppose you'd want to take me on your bike?"

"Didn't you drive here? What about your car?" Sara looked around, though she had no idea what Heather's car might look like.

"I took a cab. I'm fine to take a cab back, if you're uncomfortable with the idea."

"No no, it's fine. As long as you can hold on tight enough to stay on..."

"That won't be a problem."

"All right then," Sara said with a wicked little smirk, getting to her feet and walking to her bike, tossing her extra helmet to Heather. She put her own on and straddled the beast, waiting until she felt Heather settle behind her before she gunned the engine and felt the familiar vibrations hum through her.

Heather shifted to get comfortable and slid her arms around Sara's waist, gripping her tightly. "It tickles," she said into Sara's ear.

Sara turned her head, clearly amused. "I wouldn't expect you to be ticklish."

"I am human, Sara..."

"The way people at the lab speak of you, I thought you'd be immortal."

Heather fought a smirk. "A goddess or one of the undead?" she asked as Sara backed out of the lot and headed onto the street.

"A little of both," Sara confessed, navigating the traffic with ease. "Which way?"

Heather didn't like having to yell to be heard, so she gave directions by pointing.

Sara found it annoying, because she didn't know which way to go ahead of time, but she wasn't a fan of yelling either, so she dealt with it.

Soon they were parked in Heather's garage, and as the door was grinding closed behind them, they both got off the bike and hung their helmets on the handlebars, Sara dropping the kickstand to balance her baby.

"Thank you, that was lovely."

Sara nodded and followed Heather into the house, glancing around nervously. Now that she was here, really alone with Lady Heather, she was starting to feel jittery.

"I don't bite unless you pay me to," Heather said in soft tones, moving into the kitchen. "Tea or cocoa?"

"Cocoa," Sara said, clearing her throat and descending into an awkward silence.

Heather felt no need to break the silence. She set about making cocoa for herself and her guest, and when it was finished she handed a mug and saucer to Sara, indicating with an incline of her head for Sara to follow her. "Have a seat wherever you like and tell me why you think my profession is less noble than yours."

Sara almost dropped her mug, but managed to hold onto it as she slid into a plush velvet armchair that felt like it was made for her. "Is that why you asked me here? You feel slighted by me? I never said anything comparing our professions."

"You don't have to use words to communicate," Heather said airily, sipping her drink. "I'm not offended, simply curious."

"There's nothing for you to be offended, or curious, about. I haven't communicated anything, with words or otherwise."

"I disagree."

"Disagree all you want," Sara shot back, keeping her tone measured.

Heather laughed, taking another careful sip of the steaming liquid. "You certainly are stubborn."

Sara's jaw dropped and she stared at Heather, fighting an internal battle. "You seem fairly stubborn yourself," she finally said.

"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I should be punished," Heather said casually, regarding Sara over the rim of her mug.

"Oh no, don't start that," Sara warned.

"Why not?"

"Because it's..." She couldn't find an appropriate word, so she just threw out an over-generalization. "Gross."

"Really?" Heather asked. "And I suppose looking at dead bodies and collecting blood and semen samples is not?"

Sara's eyes narrowed slightly. She still hadn't touched her cocoa. "That's different."

"Of course." Heather smiled and nodded.

"It is," Sara insisted. "I do that to try to bring justice to victims, not to turn people into victims."

"You think I turn people into victims?"

"I... yes. Sometimes. I do."

"Which brings us back to your judgment of my profession and your conviction that yours is more noble."

Sara opened her mouth and closed it several times without a sound. Why hadn't she seen that coming? She lifted her drink and took a sip, savoring the sweet taste as she swallowed. "One to nothing," she conceded Heather's victory.

Again Heather laughed. "I'm not after points," she explained. "I only did that to get back to the question. I'd really like to hear your thoughts."

"It's not all that complex," Sara said with a shrug. "You beat people, don't you? You make them follow orders and humiliate and degrade them, and leave them broken."

Heather set her mug on the saucer and folded her hands over one crossed knee. "You've covered one small part of the services I provide. If you would care to listen, I'd be happy to elaborate. If not, I will respect your decision to remain ignorant of my profession."

Sara's jaw dropped again. What right did this woman think she had to judge her? To call her ignorant? "Are you being passive-aggressive?"

Heather had the good grace to flush slightly at that. "A little, yes."

Sara grinned, taking another sip of her cocoa, starting to feel a little bit more at ease. Maybe she *was* ignorant of Heather's profession. "All right," she agreed. "Elaborate. I'll listen."

"Excellent," Heather said quietly, leaning back against the sofa. "As you pointed out, yes, I do 'beat people', and I will engage in humiliation play if my clients wish it."

"If they *wish* it?" Sara asked, crinkling her nose in question.

Heather's eyes widened the faintest bit, looking at Sara with guarded astonishment. "Yes... Were you under the impression that I do as I please whether it is wanted or not?" At Sara's guilty expression, Heather knew the answer. "Of course I don't. Every scene I facilitate for my clients has been pre-negotiated and discussed at length. Each submissive has different desires, Sara, and I am merely the vessel with which they attain their fantasies. I do as I please, but only within the framework of a submissive's limits and passions."

Sara chewed on that for a few minutes, not sure what to say. "I don't understand why anyone would want to be beaten." Her voice was strained and angry, her fists clenched.

"You were beaten as a child?" Heather asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Sara shot up from the chair, her body trembling with rage. How could Grissom have told anyone about her past? She had trusted him. Apparently that had been a mistake. "Grissom told you?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain soft and even, though she wanted so badly to scream. How dare he, and how dare *she* bring it up like that? So casually, as if it didn't twist her stomach in knots to think about it. As if her scars didn't burn at the mention of herself as a child.

Heather stood as well, holding her hands out in surrender. "No, Sara, Grissom didn't tell me anything. Your words and body told me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Grissom told me nothing. I'm sorry, Sara. Please, sit down."

Reluctantly, with tears in her eyes, Sara sat back down, her earlier ease eviscerated. At least Grissom hadn't said anything, but that was small comfort in the face of Heather's ability to read her so easily.

"Not everyone comes to me for pain," Heather continued quietly, taking a few steps so she was standing in front of Sara. "I have a client that comes to see me once a month, and all he wants is to pretend I'm his mother. Nothing sexual, of course. Just two hours a month where he is relieved of the responsibilities of adulthood."

Despite herself, Sara was curious. "What do you do with him?"

"We play board games and read stories, color, watch cartoons... normal kid things."

"And that's it? No humiliation?"

"No humiliation. He just wants to have a childhood experience because he wasn't raised with loving parents."

"Oh." Sara's voice was more choked up than she would have liked it to be.

"Sara," Heather whispered, sucking in a soft breath. "Haven't you ever wanted to give up control?"

"No," Sara whispered back, suddenly aware of Heather's close proximity. "Have you?"

"Yes. A few times," Lady Heather admitted with a nod. "Once to Grissom."

Sara choked on nothing, her tears and the subject of her childhood forgotten in an instant. "What?"

Heather sensed the change in Sara and smirked. "He wanted to be my boss."

Sara fought the reflex to laugh but lost. "Oh my God." Did she dare ask for details?

Heather was grateful for the levity and just grinned, waiting for the CSI to interrogate her.

Sara opened her mouth to pry, but what came out was nowhere near what she had told herself to say. "And if I wanted to be your boss?"

Well, shit. Heather was not easily surprised, but that question had her stunned, a shiver running through her like icy fire. "I'd ask what qualifications you have and remind you of your position on power dynamics."

Sara had caught the flicker of excitement in Heather's eyes and found her body reacting. "My position is wavering," she said hesitantly, and then with more confidence, "and my qualifications? What would you be looking for in a boss?"

Heather's heart hadn't raced so fast in a long, long time. "Someone patient and kind, but firm and authoritative at the same time. Someone who expects me to work hard and is willing to reward me when I do. Someone who is not afraid to take control, not afraid to lay down the law just because I'm Lady Heather. Someone who knows when to push and when to stop."

Sara was throbbing by the time Heather finished, and she did her best to hide it, swallowing hard before speaking. "What sort of work would you be doing for me?"

Heather could tell that Sara was very interested. Her body betrayed her. "Anything you require."

"And if I don't know what I require?"

Heather slowly bent her knees until she was eye level with Sara. A cheeky little grin crossed her lips as she replied, "then I'd wonder why you want to be my boss."

"Oh," Sara said, her cheeks dusting pink as she couldn't think of a good response to that. She had no idea what to require in this situation.

"We could start off with me as your boss," Heather suggested.

"Uh, no thank you," Sara said, half amused and half unnerved.

"May I kiss you?"

"What??"

"May I kiss you," Heather repeated.

Sara stammered awkwardly over an answer. "I'm, I, I'm not, I don't know if I want you to do that."

Heather opened her mouth to make a teasing remark but changed her mind because Sara looked so genuinely conflicted. "That's fine," she said instead, offering a gentle smile and a pat on the knee as she pushed back up to a standing position.

"I'm sorry," Sara said, her cheeks glowing with heat. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Of course not," Heather assured her. "I didn't invite you here with any intentions, I promise."

"Well, it is getting late," Sara whispered. It was a lame thing to say but she was panicking and needed to go home, where she felt completely comfortable and could talk herself down. Without an audience. An extremely beautiful, sexy, alluring audience, but still an audience. She didn't want Lady Heather to kiss her because she was afraid she'd get too wrapped up in the feeling and end up agreeing to things she wouldn't normally agree to and would regret later.

"Yes, nine o'clock is extremely late," Heather teased. "I understand, Sara. You're uncomfortable and you want to leave. I'll open the garage so you can get your bike out." Without waiting for an answer she turned and went into the kitchen, then the garage. She had to admit, as she pressed the button to open the door, that she was actually really disappointed. She wasn't used to rejection, because she never pursued anyone. Clients came to her, and she wasn't after anyone in her personal life. Even Grissom had made the first move. As Sara joined her in the garage she forced a smile. "Merry Christmas, Sara, or whichever of the winter holidays you believe in."

"I haven't celebrated Christmas in a very long time," Sara confessed. "Happy holidays to you, though." She felt like an asshole. And a chicken. Heather's lips were so inviting... they looked so soft, painted glossy, shimmering red. She hated being held back by fear. So she straddled her bike, started the engine, then reached up to wrap one hand around Heather's collar and pulled her down into a kiss. A soft, slow kiss that warmed her from the inside out and made her lips tingle. Then, without a word, she let go and sped off, managing to get her helmet on as the bike hit the street.

Heather stood and stared after her, a slow grin spreading over her lips as she touched her fingertips to them, still feeling and tasting Sara long after the moment had passed. Well, damn. Lady Heather had herself a crush.


End file.
